


Summer Once Again

by cosmicruin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28752765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicruin/pseuds/cosmicruin
Summary: Compared to the fictional heroine popular among humans, this little merman obtains his happy ending.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Oh Sehun
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44





	Summer Once Again

**Author's Note:**

> This fic first appeared in [Pens Out For Kai](https://twitter.com/pensoutforkai), a digital fanzine consisting of fics and fanart centered on Jongin. The fanzine was used to help raise funds for Jongin's solo album projects last year. Various edits have been made to this version for a smoother read.

Rescuing drowning humans was nothing new to Jongin.

The fall usually panned out in different ways: slipping from the decks of yachts or an erroneous step after leaping from rock to rock; knocked over by giant waves from those colorful, narrow planks called _surfboards_. Most times, the near drowning happened by accident. Other times, it seemed intentional; murderous in intent. Regardless, Jongin always appeared and saved them on time; always brought them to the safety of the shores, sometimes required to revive them by breathing into their mouths to aid their frail lungs into working once more.

Jongin had saved countless of adults. Men and women, young and old—whenever Jongin found time in his day to lounge on the rocks on early mornings, or admire the breathtaking view of the setting sun and soak up the warmth before it retired for the night, once he heard the telltale sound of a plunge, followed by the distressed calls for help, he would swim to their rescue as fast as he could.

On the day of a harsh thunderstorm, Jongin saved someone as young as him for the first time.

The terrible weather should’ve deterred him from breaking the surface, but Jongin couldn’t ignore the passengers floating about, their cries increasing in volume the closer he approached. Quite a relief to witness they seemed skilled enough to swim and save themselves.

Except for a child whose limbs flailed about, attempting to stay afloat and failing miserably.

Jongin swam to the child’s rescue immediately. He was successful in grabbing the back of his shirt—the first thing Jongin’s fingers touched—and hauled the struggling child up, up, up and onto safer shores with all the strength his tiny body possessed.

Completely doused, the child—a young boy, Jongin now ascertained, after a clearer look—turned to his side, curled in on himself, and started coughing violently. Jongin gave firm pats to his back; soothed him with up and down motions as he coughed and choked and finally spat out the swallowed seawater. The young boy’s entire form trembled from the cold of the sea and the wet of his clothes.

The torrential rainfall tapered to a drizzle, then nothing. Slowly, the storm clouds parted, sunbeams filtering through them to shed light on everything it could reach. The blue of the sky drove away the gloomy gray. At the same time, the boy’s coughing ceased, and Jongin kept close watch in case he might be seized by another fit. From a far distance, Jongin heard humans shouting, words unintelligible and sounded frantic. Must be the other passengers from the yacht searching for this boy.

The boy pulled himself upright in an unhurried fashion, scrubbing a hand down his face to rid it of the clinging seawater. “I’m alive,” he croaked out, awed, disbelieving. Examined the back of his hands, as if making sure he wasn’t dreaming. Then he lifted his head and noticed Jongin sitting beside him. Surprise lit his face, then asked, “Was it you who saved me?”

Jongin nodded; willed the corners of his mouth to lift into a smile. He’d been taught, both by the elders around him and firsthand experience, that humans took more kindly to those who smiled than frowned, or showed no expression on their faces.

The boy stared at him for a moment longer, gaze traveling south. His gaze stopped there, the surprise more prominent on his face now. His mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as his eyes strayed back to Jongin’s face.

“You’re a merboy.” The words were uttered with unveiled fascination, so softly it was almost like the crashing waves had stolen the sound.

Again, Jongin nodded; willed his smile to stay in place. “I am.”

The aftermath of such revelation always served as the bigger test. Surprise was natural, expected—Jongin had been on the receiving end of it a hundred times before. How the humans acted on this surprising fact was constantly unclear; put him on edge, sometimes. He could never predict how the individual he saved would accept the fact a merboy had rescued them from the perilous clutches of the merciless waves.

The boy took a longer look at Jongin’s tail, though his face showed no hints of malice, or revulsion, or any other negative emotion. He looked contemplative in the way he might be trying to reconcile the part human, part fish being sitting in front of him.

Then, the boy’s face split into a smile, turning his guileless face more innocent.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” the boy said, and he sounded nothing but sincere. He listed his head. “I admit, I was expecting a pretty mermaid to rescue me, like what I’ve heard from stories.”

“They fear storms of this magnitude,” Jongin said, remembering belatedly that when he was swimming up to the surface, the mermaids dove underwater for refuge. “They do not like scary things.”

The boy carefully rose to his feet. He looked out into the water, waved his arms about wildly to get the attention of the yacht heading for shore. He turned to Jongin once more. “You should hide before the yacht comes back. I don’t know what my relatives think about merfolk, but I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

Such thoughtfulness coming from a child. An unexpected kindness, but not unwelcome. Seldom did Jongin’s encounters with humankind turned unpleasant, but those handfuls of experiences taught him an important lesson: not all humans were grateful, and not all of them were keen on the reality of being rescued by a species other than their own.

“Wait,” the boy called out, stopping Jongin from crawling back into the waters. Jongin threw a glance over his shoulder, nodded at him to continue. The boy seemed to hesitate, at first, but not for long. “Will I see you again?”

This time, it was Jongin who hesitated. “If you want.”

“I do.”

“Then you will.”

☆彡

Jongin did see the boy again, and learned of his name, too.

Dawn had barely broken when Jongin swam to the surface, enjoying this quiet beginning of the day just a little more compared to its other parts. On these quiet hours, barely any humans were out and about; fishing boats scattered far from each other he could count with his fingers. Jongin hauled himself up onto his favorite rock, lost himself to the spectacular view of pale sunlight breaking through an indigo-dyed sky.

Footsteps, careful but hurried, drawing close. Then, someone was sitting an arm’s length away.

The boy he saved, grinning at him. “Hi.”

Jongin, after moving past his surprise, grinned back. “Hi.”

A soft breeze blew in from the sea, tousling the boy’s dark hair. He looked better, now, clothes crumpled from sleep; faint indents on his cheeks evidence he had recently risen. “I couldn’t sleep anymore, and I saw you from my window.” Jongin followed the direction of where his finger pointed—a big house with equally big glass panes for windows that stood quite the distance on land above the sea.

“How did you know it was me?” Jongin asked, curious.

“I just had a feeling it was you,” the young boy said.

“And what if you came down here and discovered it wasn’t me?”

“That’s alright. I’d still try to befriend whoever merperson I find.”

Interest piqued, Jongin turned sideways completely so he could look at the boy better. “Are you not wary of us merfolk?”

To his greater surprise, the boy shook his head without hesitation. “Why should I? Merfolk are like humans: there are good ones and bad ones. You’re part of the good ones.”

Jongin couldn’t help but smile. “How do you know I’m a good merboy? What if I’m just pretending to be nice when, all along, I am plotting something terrible against you?”

The boy shook his head, firmer this time around; reflected in his next reply. “If you were a bad merboy, you wouldn’t have saved me from drowning. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have taken me to shore. You’d have dragged me under, and I wouldn’t be here today. Alive. That’s why I think you’re a good merboy. I’m not changing my mind on this.”

Willfulness of this degree would’ve been off-putting, but Jongin was strangely amused. The humans he rescued in the past never stayed long enough to hold a conversation with him, more focused on escaping further interaction or forgetting to thank him entirely. Those who spotted him by accident either hightailed upon catching sight of his tail, or pretending they never saw him even as they walked past the rock he lounged on. Jongin was more thankful if the latter happened; preferred it by leagues. The former was truthfully hurtful, although he drew comfort from the consolation of these select humans choosing to run away instead of hurling insults or objects at him.

“What’s your name, by the way?” the boy asked, drawing Jongin back to the present. “Do merfolk have names like humans, too?” He blinked twice, then lightly rapped his knuckles on his forehead. “What am I talking about, I must still be sleepy. Of course you would have names, too. Mine’s Sehun.” He smiled, extended his hand for Jongin to take. “From now on, we’re friends.”

☆彡

A whole new world opened before him from the moment Jongin shook Sehun’s hand.

Jongin didn’t hold any expectations when, on the day of their first meeting, Sehun said he’d see him again tomorrow. He wasn’t one to put weight on fleeting meetings; take human words and promises too seriously. He went about the rest of his day doing as he pleased, doing the usual, even before Sehun came into his life.

The following morning, upon the slightest peek of the rising sun, Jongin swam to his favorite rock and just about settled when he saw Sehun already there, hair barely combed and wearing a different set of sleeping clothes from yesterday ( _pajamas_ , Sehun informed him, when he asked about it later). A stark contrast to his eyes bright and alert; the stretch of his mouth into an upward curve as he greeted him a good morning.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here, but I had a good feeling today,” Sehun said, answering one of Jongin’s many questions. He still sat an arm’s length away, respecting boundaries. “Do you come here every morning? What do you do?”

“I come to watch the sunrise.”

“Ah.” Sehun nodded slowly. His gaze swept across their surroundings. Jongin mimicked him, though he already knew what to find. Like yesterday, and all other mornings before now, a few fishing boats floating away from each other in separate directions, and fewer humans enjoying the cool breeze along the shoreline before the humidity invaded. “It sort of feels like you own the sea and shore when you sit here at this time, doesn’t it? I hope it’s not because you’re scared of humans.” The inquiry was innocent; the look on his face sad.

“I do not fear humans. But, I must say meeting various humans have given me some… unfortunate reactions.”

Human civilization had come a long way from living unaware of merfolk existence to co-existing with them. Majority of humans respected the merfolk and the sea goddess’ other creations to avoid incurring her wrath, though a handful retained a stubborn superiority complex that they needn’t share the land (and the sea, to some extent) with creatures far different from their own kind. These handfuls were also susceptible to treating the merfolk as lesser beings. Some were expectedly wary, and scared, when encountering the merfolk, but did not act upon these emotions. Some ran away when they discovered one they thought human from a far off distance possessed a tail on the lower half of their body if their stares wandered down.

Before a truce was set in place, the merfolk remained a figment of imagination found between storybook pages used to read human children to sleep. Jongin heard about such stories from returning meradults who’d spent years of their lives on land. There had been sightings by sailors out at sea once upon a time, but none had swam into their nets or close to the ships for them to clearly ascertain if what they saw was monster, giant fish, or something else otherworldly.

Then, the merfolk started emerging from the depths of the sea one by one, unable to resist the temptation of exploring the world of land dwellers. No one knew how it started; why they revealed themselves to humans. The common, established belief was that violent storms often destroyed and overturned ships, resulting entire crews to drown. Innocent merfolk who minded their business might have been shocked to discover that creatures with human body parts like theirs possessed two extra appendages from the waist down instead of a tail; that such creatures existed and lived above the sea but could not swim to save themselves.

And so, as time passed by, some of the merfolk harbored an endless fascination with humans. So much it pushed them to find ways to split their tails— _legs_ , as they were taught by the elders—though often ended in painful results. Tails did not conceal legs no matter how long one plucked at their scales.

Merfolk were not meant to have legs.

Over time, merfolk sightings increased, but the sea goddess desired no harm to fall upon her children. Therefore, she sought a truce with all the rulers of the land. No human shall cause injury of any kind against the merfolk; in exchange, no merfolk should play dangerous tricks on humans out at sea or deprive them of fish necessary for their livelihood. Only then could a peaceful co-existence be established.

The truce was honored to this day. Though no merblood had been shed and no humans had perished from drowning, it would be a lie to claim the harmony and peace strived for by both species did not come with some tension and difficulties.

“They shouldn’t be scared of you,” Sehun said. “Humans and merfolk shouldn’t be scared of each other. I’m sorry you’ve met the mean humans.”

Jongin shook his head. “Do not apologize on their behalf. I do not group humans in one category. Coming here to talk to me is proof of your courage—something not everyone from your kind dares to do, regrettably.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet a merperson,” Sehun told him. The honesty shining in his eyes left no space for doubt. “I’ve only heard stories from relatives of supposed encounters they’ve had with the merfolk. Whenever I asked for more stories, they brushed me off and paid more attention to their card games. Makes me wonder if they were telling the truth or not. Hmph.” He pursed his lips, frowning slightly.

Jongin couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “I’m here now. I do not have any stories, but I could answer any questions you might have.”

Answering Sehun’s questions led to more meetings, seaming itself into Jongin’s morning routine. Jongin asked some of his own, inserted them in their conversations. Sometimes Jongin wouldn’t catch the answers the first time, distracted by Sehun’s interest for merfolk food; the multiple expressions his face showed when he tasted something sweet, sour, strange, grassy, slimy. Between Sehun’s munching and commentary, Jongin discovered he was twelve years young—an age they shared, after converting his to human unit of measure. Sehun lived in the big house he pointed to on their first morning, owned by his grandparents, and he would stay there until summer’s end.

Sehun asked his own questions, and Jongin answered them with the same honesty dispensed to him.

“Do merchildren go to school? Do you go on vacations during summer, too?”  
(“Yes, we do. What is summer vacation? Ah, is that the period when humans lie idle on the sand for hours until their skin reddens? We do not have that; although, we welcome and play with creatures from other corners of the sea that end up in ours as part of their migration.”)

“Are you taught to speak human languages?”  
(“Yes. We are taught the most spoken language of the land dwellers closest to our waters. We are taught how to write and read their alphabet, too. Many of my kin are—what do humans call them?—‘multi-lingual.’”)

“What do you do for fun?”  
(“We have swimming contests. We compete by plucking pearls from shells without having our fingers snapped off. If we are feeling bold, we go on adventures to root around for lost treasure in sunken ships and boats.”)

“What would you do if you had legs instead of a tail?”

“Dance,” was Jongin’s immediate answer.

Sehun looked surprised. “What kind of dance?”

Jongin took a while to explain what kind, for he knew not its name, if it had one at all. He described what he’d seen around two or three summers past from peeking behind rocks when he was still shy about sitting on top of them. During his peeping, he saw a young man and woman pair, svelte in figure and light on their feet, leaping through the air and landing with grace; twirled and twisted their bodies in the most captivating way Jongin had seen humans do to date.

“Ballet,” Sehun said, after he was done talking.

“ _Ballet_ ,” Jongin echoed. Repeated it a few times, testing the foreign syllables on his tongue. “That is what I wish to do. Ballet.”

“That’s cool,” Sehun said, lack of snide in his tone refreshing—and almost too good to be true.

“You won’t make fun of me for it?”

“Why should I? Some humans dream of having tails to live under the sea. They get made fun of for that, but I don’t. No one should be made fun of for dreaming.” Sehun’s eyes narrowed a fraction, as if an unpleasant thought came over him. “Do your friends not believe you?”

Jongin shook his head. “My friends have more belief in me. It’s my schoolmates who don’t.”

He wasn’t oblivious to the snickering, the whispers behind his back. He’d told some about the man and woman dancing together; imitated their movements the best he could to show them. They smiled and nodded in front of him; turned around and gossiped in code he deciphered easily. Poor little merboy, dreaming of dancing the dances of humans when he didn’t have legs. Poor, poor little merboy, wanting so badly to belong to the world above and wishing impossible wishes.

“Don’t listen to them,” Sehun said, and he sounded angry on behalf of Jongin. “Merfolk can have legs, right? It’s not impossible.”

“It’s not,” Jongin agreed, nodding. “But there are certain requirements to be met before you can get legs.”

“Like the fairy tale?” Sehun blinked, then gasped, and mild fear crossed his features. He suddenly grabbed Jongin’s shoulders, the fear rapidly morphing to something akin to worry. “I just remembered what the requirement was, and…” He shook his head vigorously, as if banishing whatever scary thoughts he had in mind. “It’s scary. Won’t it hurt? Can’t the sea witch ask for something else in exchange? Can she not cut off your tongue just to give you legs?”

Jongin blinked, then threw his head back in amused laughter.

“I’m serious!” Sehun insisted, frowning. “Didn’t the fairy tale say the little mermaid traded her tail for legs, and the sea witch took her tongue so she would rely on body language to communicate?”

Jongin laughed harder. Sehun’s frown looked more severe. Calming down, he gently patted one of Sehun’s hands and said, “No, none of that is true. It never happened. That story is a mere fabrication by our ancestors.”

That story was also used to dissuade impressionable merchildren from yearning for the land above, depicting an extreme lesson on staying away from humans and everything involved with them. That not all ventures were going to give good results, and not all gestures of kindness were going to be reciprocated in ways you expected. The story spread far and wide across the sea, though nobody knew for sure how the humans got a hold of it.

Sehun’s frown disappeared, this time curiosity taking its place. “So the books lied to me?” A sound of awe was released. “Wow, I can’t believe this. And to think I found her story sad.”

“It _is_ sad,” Jongin agreed. “A mermaid falling in love with a human prince, but not having her feelings reciprocated or recognized? Refusing to kill her sweet prince and choosing to turn into sea foam in the end? It is a very sad fate.”

“Let’s not talk about sad things anymore,” Sehun said. “This morning is too good to be ruined by a sad fairy tale that I now found out was a lie.”

“It is my turn to ask you a question. What would you do if you had a tail?”

Sehun listed his head in obvious contemplation. “I’d play with the belugas. I think they’re cute and fun to tease. I went to an aquarium before and made faces at them. They did it first! They gave this loud sound when I was just watching them swim quietly. I just retaliated.”

Jongin chuckled at the funny image it painted in his mind.

“But a tail… maybe I should learn how to swim first.” Sehun looked and sounded sheepish in his confession. “Is that possible? Are all merfolk born with the ability to swim, or do they flop around, too? I’m envious. I wish I could swim with two legs, but as you know…” Pink streaked his cheeks.

“Do you want me to teach you how to swim?” Jongin asked.

Sehun lit up. “You will? I asked the adults at home, but they were all too busy with work. I want to learn. I promise I’m a good student. I won’t cause trouble for you, teacher.” He uttered these words so formally, so seriously, and gave Jongin a respectful bow.

Jongin learned bowing was what people did as a sign of respect or when doing greetings in these parts. The action caught him off-guard, and he flustered, waving his hands in front of him. “We’re the same age. There is no need to treat me like I’m older. Lift your head—okay, better. I’ll teach you how to swim.”

“Great!” Sehun beamed, and Jongin was reminded of a bright, sunny day. “Let’s begin! I will be in your care from now on, teacher.”

“I said don’t call me teacher.” Jongin couldn’t help his lower lip from jutting out. It jutted out some more when Sehun merely laughed; urged him to hurry up as he divested himself of his shirt and cautiously made his way into the water.

Jongin had never taught a human how to swim before. Swimming came naturally to merfolk—a contrast to humans who needed to learn how to use their legs for walking while growing up. Their first few starts were rough. Jongin kept forgetting Sehun had two legs and not a singular tail. Eventually, Jongin tailored his lessons and tips for Sehun, patiently teaching him to float first; then, using his legs and arms to swim. He taught Sehun to relax when he was waist-deep in the water; to not fear it if he ventured further, further, from chest to neck level, all the while assuring him he was doing wonderful. That if something went wrong (and hopefully not), Jongin would be right there to save him.

The nervousness rolling off Sehun’s form dissolved as he learned, bit by bit, to not fear the water. He took a deep breath for courage; another, whenever he dipped one foot, then the other, submerging himself to the waist without the usual apprehension Jongin had sensed in the past days. Jongin guided him and kept close watch every step of the way; encouraged Sehun to wade out just a little further than their agreed distance on days he had the energy for venturing. Jongin reminded him to keep calm at all times—if he panicked for even one second, his efforts would be for naught.

“When do you think I’ll be able to dive underwater?” Sehun asked, after they reached shore, his entire form soused from their morning lesson.

The waves aided in pushing Jongin inland. He crawled then sat on the sand, tail dipped in the water. Sehun sat down beside him, shoulder slightly bumping against Jongin’s as he dried his hair with a towel he brought with him. How far they’d come from the respectable distance Sehun always set.

“You are a good swimmer now. Diving is another thing entirely. What is the rush to master these skills? There is time.”

“I just get impatient when I’m excited.” Sehun’s face came into view as he used the towel to dry his neck. His hair stuck together in clumps, dripping seawater. “I want to master swimming and diving as fast as I can. I won’t have time to learn when I go back to Seoul for school.”

 _Seoul._ Jongin filed away the word; tested it on his tongue. He had heard of this place, usually described as a sprawling metropolis by the merfolk who have seen it and lived there. Sehun had mentioned this city a few times in passing during their conversations, giving Jongin the impression he hailed from Seoul.

“If you come back here next time, I will teach you.”

“Do you mean that?” Sehun turned to him, face serious; eyes searching. “If you make a promise now, you can’t take it back.”

“I do not make promises lightly,” Jongin said, equally serious.

A beat, and then Sehun’s eyes crinkled; mouth curving upward. “Alright. I’ll hold you to that." He held out his pinky. Jongin stared at it, not knowing what to do. “Oh, sorry. Do you not do this underwater? It’s called a pinky promise.” Taking Jongin’s hand, Sehun curled four of his fingers inward except for the pinky that he twined with his. “When you do a pinky promise, it means you have to fulfill it. If you break your promise, you have to eat a thousand needles as punishment.”

“I don’t want to eat a thousand needles!” Jongin exclaimed, panicked at the thought of those thin, pointed objects; panicked more at the somberness of Sehun’s face.

“That’s why you can’t break your promise to me. When I come back next time, you have to teach me how to dive. Okay?” Sehun waved their locked pinkies to emphasize his point.

Jongin nodded right away. He returned home much later still imagining those needles—why were some human inventions so dangerous? He couldn’t stop thinking about those needles; slept fitfully that night and visited by strange dreams of those pointed, silver objects chasing him after breaking his promise to Sehun.

“You don’t look like you slept well, Jongin,” one of his friends told him, when they met by coincidence on his swim to the surface. His friend listened to him rant about his dream, but Jongin didn’t expect the laugh that tumbled out of his mouth after. “I think your human friend is just teasing you. It’s true there’s a saying like that among humans, but the person who breaks a promise isn’t fed needles. It’s just a figure of speech.”

Sehun laughed loud and unrestrained when confronted later, much to Jongin’s embarrassment. “Oh, darn, I thought of keeping up the joke a bit longer. Why are you pouting? You don’t honestly think we make promise breakers eat needles? Wait. You did. _You did!_ Your face! Ow, okay, sorry!” He didn’t sound sorry at all, not even his laughter, even as Jongin pinched him on his sides.

“Then don’t make jokes like that anymore. It’s not funny!” Jongin griped. He stopped pinching Sehun, though his indignation had yet to fade. He stuck out his bottom lip; folded his arms across his chest, turned his body away, unimpressed. Half of his tail was in the water, swinging back and forth in annoyance.

Sehun’s laughter tapered to a snort. He tapped Jongin on the shoulder. Jongin harrumphed, puffed up his cheeks, but did not look at him.

“Fine, fine, sorry for pulling the joke on you,” Sehun said, and though he sounded sincere, amusement continued bubbling in his words. “No more weird punishments. Let’s change it. If you don’t keep your promise of teaching me how to dive when I come back next time, I’ll be really sad.”

The slow deflation of Jongin’s cheeks matched the pace of his evaporating petulance. He slowly turned to look at Sehun; was greeted by a soft smile, a face absent of mischief. “Why would you be sad?” he asked, after seconds of silent eye contact. “You shouldn’t be sad.”

“Then keep your promise. Teach me how to dive next time. I won’t joke about you eating needles as punishment if you do.”

Calmer now, Jongin faced him fully. “Come back here first.”

This time, when they interlocked pinkies, there were no jokes about needles; just a fluttery kind of warmth that circled round and round in Jongin’s chest.

☆彡

They did see each other again on this summer similar in weather and humidity from the year past. Between that period and now, Jongin continued saving humans from drowning; continued watching and observing them from afar. Between that period and now, Sehun retained his swimming skills, happily showing off to Jongin on their reunion. Jongin delighted in the way Sehun held no more reservations plunging into the waters, traces of the apprehensive, twelve-year old boy who trembled at the notion of going deeper into the sea completely gone.

“I practiced swimming a lot on my free time,” Sehun told him, after swimming three— _laps_ , was what he called them. Jongin thought the term strange, but added it to his collection of human terms for later perusal and probable use. “There are no beaches inside Seoul, so I had to make do with swimming pools. My friends were so shocked I knew how to swim and not afraid of the water anymore.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Hmm, yeah. I’m mostly known as the coward who’s scared of water among us.” Sehun looked equal parts embarrassed and shy saying this, tips of his ears reddening. “But that’s changed now, thanks to you. Some of them still swim faster than me, but I don’t plan on losing next time when I meet them at the pool.”

“If you can beat me in swimming, your friends won’t stand a chance.”

“You think so?” Sehun cocked his head in wonder, as if considering this. “Should we start now?”

Although it was unheard of for humans to beat merfolk in swimming, Jongin discovered Sehun was not one to admit defeat; did not show any exhaustion and insisted on a rematch when he lost for the second, third, fourth time. Sehun requested for breaks between to rest his body, and through this Jongin was reminded how humans and merfolk were built differently. That merfolk did not need to rest long to recover, bestowed with the gift of mighty endurance by the sea goddess herself so they could swim for long periods of time without tiring.

If swimming felt extraneous for Sehun after recovering spent energy, they would hold contests on who could hold their breath underwater longer. Jongin won most of the rounds, but he was always impressed whenever Sehun snatched his victories.

“My friends and I do these games for fun in the pool,” was Sehun’s explanation, when Jongin praised him for holding his breath three seconds longer on their next match. “I win most of the time.” He looked as proud as he sounded saying this.

Sehun was generous in sharing stories of what he had done in the past year: places he'd seen, people he had met, food he’d tasted and wished Jongin could try. Jongin soaked up these stories like he would with his favorite algae, trying to paint pictures of the world Sehun lived in. Likewise, he would tell him of his school activities in the past year, and all the new things he had experienced.

“Singing?” Sehun looked intrigued when Jongin mentioned this. “Oh, right. How could I forget? The merfolk are known for their beautiful voices when they sing. I’ve never heard you sing before, though.”

“Oh. That…” Jongin’s mouth remained opened, but no words followed after.

It was true the merfolk prided themselves for possessing the most beautiful voices. Humans who heard them became endlessly enchanted—one of countless reasons they sought merfolk out at sea, at times completely disregarding personal safety and malevolent thunderstorms. Jongin had grown up listening to his mother sing at home while doing chores; had hummed along with her when he was mature enough to form his own thoughts that, perhaps, he would like to improve on his singing someday.

Entering school introduced Jongin to music classes, which he always anticipated; loved attending. He appreciated his music teacher’s tireless encouragements and helpful advices if he couldn’t get a note right; couldn’t get his voice to cooperate with him, which was becoming a frequent occurrence. The erratic cracking of his voice dampened the motivation to raise his hand in subsequent classes when the teacher asked who would like to lead the class to sing.

“I’m not… I’m not a very good singer…” Jongin felt his face heat up when he said this—hotter than the summer sun beating on their backs above them.

Sehun did not deign him with a response right away. “Why do you say that about yourself?” No malice, no annoyance laced his words—just curiosity so pure for someone his age. “Do you believe that?”

Again, Jongin was at a loss for words. “No, but—”

“Then you’re a good singer unless you genuinely believe the opposite.” Sehun smiled, and even this gesture looked genuine. “May I hear you sing? Any song will do. It’s okay to sing one song. You don’t need to put on an entire concert.”

Jongin wasn’t sure what a concert was, and if he could even do that. He wasn’t even sure if he had the confidence to hold one when Sehun explained the term. The earnestness of Sehun’s waiting gaze encouraged him to pick one song, however. He took one deep breath for hope. Opened his mouth.

His singing went splendidly in the first two verses. Jongin picked this song on purpose because it was the one that had never made him sound strange, no matter how many times he sang it. It was the first song he learned to perfect from start to finish, and also gave him more control over his voice—

—until Jongin went off-key at the refrain, shattering his momentum, his perfect start.

The seagulls’ cries overhead and the roar of waves before them filled the ensuing silence.

Jongin snapped his mouth close; at the same time, Sehun’s eyes widened. His cheeks burned with shame, and he wanted nothing more than to dive back into the sea to stew in his embarrassment. Surely this moment would torture him tonight while waiting for sleep to claim him. Jongin’s body refused to cooperate, however, and only seemed to hold enough energy to hide his face behind his hands; blurt out a panicked, “I’m sorry!”

“Huh? What are you sorry for?”

Jongin couldn’t detect any teasing in Sehun’s voice, but he still refused to face him. “I went off-key. I ruined the song.”

“Ruined the song? How?” Sehun sounded flabbergasted, highly confused. Jongin didn’t answer, just pressed his hands against his face harder in burning shame. Then, Sehun let out a sound of understanding. “You can just sing the song again. Going off-key happens to singers. It’s natural. You don’t get everything perfect on your first try, and that’s okay.”

Soft, careful hands encircled Jongin’s wrists and tugged lightly. Jongin refused to relent, too deep in his mortification. Sehun showed no signs of doing the same, but wasn’t forceful or rough in his tugging. He never relinquished his hold, kept tugging lightly at Jongin’s wrists.

A short silence passed before Sehun spoke again.

“If it helps, before I met you, I was so bad at swimming. I wanted to join my playmates in the water whenever we hit the pools in summer; they always had so much fun playing and swimming. But I couldn’t get in because I was a scaredy-cat about anything water. Sometimes my friends made fun of me for using floaties and not straying very far from the shallow parts. Beaches were a nightmare: I had to content myself staying on the shore while being envious of relatives and cousins my age run into the water without worrying about drowning. I was tired of watching everyone have fun except me. I told myself I can’t be a coward for the rest of my life.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is: there are sides to ourselves we’re not proud of or embarrassed about. It shouldn’t stop us from wanting to do more and try again. What others say and do about our weaknesses could hurt us. But it doesn’t mean it should stay true forever.”

Jongin lost track of time from keeping his face hidden. He did find comfort in Sehun’s words; from his hands that never let go of his wrists. When he decided it was the right moment to stop hiding, Sehun was peering at him, face breaking into a smile. The warmth of his hands lingered on Jongin’s wrists even after he let go.

“I still want to hear you sing,” Sehun said, after some moments have passed. Then, he hurriedly added, “Not now, of course! You don’t have to force yourself. Only when you’re prepared. I don’t mean to rush or pressure you.”

“I’ll try harder.” Jongin surprised himself saying this but didn’t take it back. Found himself smiling, too, and the previous shame disappearing. “One day, I’ll sing a complete song for you. I will rehearse more until then.”

“Is that another promise?” Sehun asked. Jongin was about to answer but caught the mischief sparkling in his eyes. He frowned; Sehun laughed. “I’m joking, geez. No needles. Just tell me when you’re prepared, okay?” He grinned, the sea breeze blowing through his short hair.

The idea someone genuinely wanted to hear him sing outside of class resurrected the warmth in Jongin’s chest similar to the one he felt in the past year.

One early morning, after Jongin finished guiding a bale of turtles to a nesting site safe and far from human contact on the shore, Sehun surprised him with a brick-looking gadget that lit up when he pressed a singular button at the bottom. A _phone_ , Sehun called it; a magical device, Jongin countered. Sehun chuckled and pressed several items on its surface, urged him to come close, come look.

Jongin gasped upon seeing several tiny humans appear on the phone, dressed in sophisticated-looking costumes and moving about. “How did this happen?” he asked, bewildered, pointing at the tiny humans oblivious to them. “Did you hold these humans captive?”

Sehun laughed, but not in a mean way. He explained the phone was playing a _video clip_ (“Think of it like illustrations on a book, but they’re moving.”). Although Sehun promised he didn’t commit any sort of sorcery or held humans against their will, that all this was the work of advanced human technology, Jongin, with plenty of hesitation, acquiesced to his request of watching the video clip.

Jongin gasped again after watching in silence for a considerable length of time. “Oh, it’s ballet! They’re dancing ballet!”

“Yup!” Sehun confirmed; adjusted his hold on the phone, raised his arm a little higher so they both had a better view.

Jongin watched the dancing figures, once again reminded how smitten he had been watching the young man and woman pair for the first time. If anything had changed, his desire to have legs and learn the dance grew stronger. Going through the long list of video clips, Jongin learned there were truly so many ways the human body could move and twist and bend; a plethora of musical pieces in varied pitches and energies; pretty costumes in many colors worn in accordance to the mood and roles.

Long after the last video clip finished, Jongin voiced a lingering question. “Why did you show me these?”

“You looked so happy when you mentioned ballet last time,” came Sehun’s easy reply.

“So you collected these… _video clips_ ”—Jongin took great care with his pronunciation, imitating what he heard earlier—“to show me, just because it made me happy?”

“You could say that,” Sehun said, slowly nodding.

Jongin vaguely wondered about the tint of red on Sehun’s cheeks; if they needed to seek shade soon so the sun wouldn’t burn their skin. He vaguely wondered about this warmth in his chest, circling round and round once again, just like in the past year; if this was an affliction caused by staying out under the sun too long.

It must be an annual type of affliction and not caused by the sun, Jongin guessed, when the warmth resurfaced from the depths of his chest the following year, on the day Sehun returned. Sehun, whose eyes instantly found him, regardless if Jongin sat on the rocks or on the sand. Sehun, who seemed to have grown taller than last they saw each other, limbs longer, boyish features mostly retained, though with slight traces of a jawline starting to become defined. Effects of puberty, Jongin recalled his teacher labeling these changes in adolescent humans.

“Hey, when did your tail change color?” Sehun asked, surprised, after climbing onto the rock.

The deeper timber of Sehun’s voice was taking some getting used to. Another puberty effect—Jongin recalled reading about this from assigned scroll reading. His eyes followed Sehun’s stare. Jongin smiled, caressing his tail. At the end of winter, the color of his scales and fins underwent a slow transition from the common emerald color the merfolk population owned from birth to its current aquamarine hue. Signs of merteen puberty.

Sehun stared at Jongin’s tail in unveiled awe. “It’s a really beautiful color.”

“Many others possess a similar tail color,” Jongin said, though he allowed himself to revel in the praise.

“You’re the only merperson I know. That automatically means your tail color is the most beautiful I’ve seen.” One corner of Sehun’s mouth lifted into a half smile.

Puberty did not take away Sehun’s chattiness and his free-flowing stories. Puberty made their shoulders knock together more often than accustomed when sitting close to each other. Sehun joked Jongin’s shoulders had turned broader; therefore, the reason they kept bumping when they huddled close to watch the new collection of ballet videos on an obviously new phone.

Puberty had been kind to Jongin, his voice finally developing in a way that it no longer cracked when he sang in front of the class; led them many a time when learning new songs, one by one winning the admiration of his teacher and peers. Jongin’s confidence gradually built that he no longer shied away when asked to sing impromptu; no longer worried too much if he was going to ruin the song somewhere in the middle. From humming inconspicuously under his breath to singing random song sections without fear of anyone hearing him, the embarrassment rooting from his singing mistakes seemed like a distant reality, now.

And with this newfound confidence, he could finally keep his promise of singing one complete song for Sehun.

Puberty also did not stop them from enjoying simple activities such as building castles on the sand. Jongin was meticulous in building his part of the castle; Sehun seemed more interested in poking holes anywhere his finger reached to get a rise out of him. They were beginning to spend time together longer than usual. Jongin didn’t complain, though he asked Sehun why. Sehun shrugged, said he didn’t really feel like heading home early.

Jongin only nodded in reply, gaze staying on him for a moment longer as he wondered to himself what Sehun wasn’t telling him.

After Sehun gave up bothering Jongin, they lapsed into silence and finished the sandcastle. Immersed in his task, Jongin began singing, a habit developed from days past of striving to improve. When he lifted his head, Sehun was staring right at him, hands unmoving.

“What song was that? It’s really pretty.” Jongin answered. Sehun slowly nodded, a grin appearing on his face—cheeky but also a touch curious. “I hope you’ve been rehearsing as you told me before. You owe me a song, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Jongin grinned back. “I haven’t found a suitable song. Wait for it.”

The waiting came to an end three nights later.

“Jongin, I saw your human on the shore,” one of his friends said. Their meeting was accidental; Jongin was swimming on the way back from completing an errand for his mother.

“My _who_?”

“Your human. The tall, gangly kid who’s always hanging around you,” his friend repeated, unfazed by Jongin’s shock. “Everyone knows he’s the human you’re always so eager to see around this time of the year. But that’s not the point. I saw your human walking along the shore. He looked dazed and kind of sad.”

Curious, concerned, Jongin headed home first to give his mother the bag of edible algae he gathered for her and swam to the surface. With the aid of the light coming from the tall lampposts erected in the surrounding area, true to form, Sehun was walking seemingly without aim on the shore; stopped to kick up the sand, irritation evident in his movements. Jongin called out his name once he was close enough. Sehun’s head immediately snapped up, the look of surprise comical if not for the rapid somberness overtaking his expression.

“I can’t stand living in that house,” Sehun told him, shattering the lengthened silence of simply sitting beside each other on the shore. “I can’t take the screaming matches. My parents never fought this badly before. And they keep getting worse. Staying outdoors is now miles better than going back home if I have to listen to them argue round the clock.”

For all the time spent together, Jongin could only count the instances Sehun talked about his parents with one hand. He never pushed him to share more after the accidental discovery how wrong a move it was to probe deeper. The smile instantly slipped off Sehun’s face, and he wasn’t subtle in hinting he’d rather talk about something else. But everything had a tipping point, and this must be Sehun’s: frustration lining his face, gestures underscored with impatience, the sad slump of his shoulders.

“Just for one day, I want them to stop arguing.” Sehun hugged his knees close to his chest, staring into the distance. “I thought this trip away from work and the city would help them. Can’t believe it’s doing the exact opposite.”

The openly-displayed vulnerability incited Jongin to encircle an arm around Sehun’s shoulders. He near retracted his arm upon feeling Sehun tense but found nothing to worry about when he wasn’t pushed away. Using a little more courage, Jongin pulled him closer; leaned his head against Sehun’s. Sang the first song to cross his mind, voice purposely lowered and soft to avoid upsetting the precarious situation.

Gradually, Sehun relaxed. Gradually, the song came to an end. The crashing of waves against rocks in the far distance filled the ensuing silence. Neither moved nor spoke, but Sehun’s soft sigh broke the spell of tranquility. Jongin refrained from asking questions, allowing Sehun to speak as he wished. If not, that was alright, too.

“That was a very nice song.” Sehun’s voice was lowered, but he didn’t sound on edge anymore. “The melody was soothing. I don’t understand merfolk language, but I felt very comforted.”

“The song is usually sung to comfort those going through a hard time. My mother used to sing it to me when I was a merbabe.”

“So it’s like a lullaby used to calm babies.” Sehun didn’t pose it as a question. He leaned back, and Jongin was surprised, then relieved, by the traces of amusement on his face. Much better than a frown. Much better than sadness. “What am I, a baby?”

Jongin chuckled. “Are you not?” He lightly pinched Sehun’s cheek.

Sehun groaned, batting away Jongin’s fingers. He looked to be doing his best not to smile, corners of his mouth laced with restrained mirth. “I’m a teenager. Of course I wouldn’t want to be seen as a baby, even if I _do_ like being cared for. At least, I don’t want _you_ to see me as a baby.” His gaze skittered away as he mumbled the last few words.

With the aid of the lampposts’ light, Jongin saw the reddening of Sehun’s. Why, though?

“I don’t see you as one,” Jongin told him, effectively gaining back Sehun’s attention.

“So what do you see me as?” Sehun asked, suddenly serious in demeanor; in the way he straightened his back, an unexplained intensity in his gaze. “If you don’t see me as a baby, what am I to you?”

“I see you as a friend,” Jongin replied, ignoring the telltale warmth circling in his chest that somehow found its way to creep up his neck, his cheeks. The sea breeze wasn’t doing anything to alleviate the heat. “A friend who likes being a baby, sometimes?”

Sehun’s mouth opened and closed several times, though no words came out. Finally, he snapped his mouth shut, and a chuckle escaped his smiling lips as he shook his head. “Ah, really, what did I expect…”

Jongin creased his forehead. “Was it not the right answer? Were you expecting me to say something else?”

“I’m not saying anything. Figure it out yourself.”

Jongin would’ve complained, tried extracting clearer answers; but none of those mattered right now. Not when Sehun looked freer of his current burdens, mirrored in the smile he now wore and the rekindled sparkle in his eyes. Not when Sehun seemed to return to his usual, cheerful self, already teasing Jongin within the next second after his moment of weakness. Not when, after his attempt at pinching was thwarted and Sehun seized his hand, laughing and refusing to let go, did Jongin’s mind summon a most traitorous thought.

Why was it that he only felt this tingly, overflowing warmth in his chest when Sehun was involved?

☆彡

A shift occurred on their next summer together.

At seventeen years young, Sehun’s gaze carried a sort of maturity absent in the years previous. Like the world he lived in forced him to grow up at a faster rate than others in order to handle every dire circumstance thrown his way. Jongin would find out he was correct when Sehun let slip his parents had ended their marriage on their return to Seoul last year, and he had been given the choice of whom he wanted to live with.

“I chose my dad,” Sehun said, opening a blue bag containing palm-sized treats of a pale yellow color. Due to his fondness of sharing snacks through the years, Jongin’s palate had grown used to human flavors and seasonings. “I didn’t want to choose at first, and I do love my mom, but dad needs me more.”

“It must have been difficult to choose between them.” Jongin took an offered treat, curious of its peculiar shape; scrunched up his nose at the carved-out eyes and smile. Sehun mentioned they were supposed to look like ghosts. Jongin had never encountered anything like these treats underwater, even in its murkiest, creepiest depths. Perhaps this was what ghosts looked like in the human world, he guessed, and bit into one. The rich flavor of cheese took him aback but not entirely unpleasant. “Is it hard living with just your father?”

“It’s bearable,” Sehun said, munching on three pieces at a time. “Chores and meals aren’t a problem—we have hired help for that. Accepting we aren’t a complete family anymore is taking us time to get used to. My dad and I will move past that one day.”

There was sadness in his tone Jongin didn’t like; thought it unsuitable of him. Quickly he came up with an idea of cheering him up. “You said you’ve beaten the fastest swimmer among your friends. Can you beat me, though?”

Sehun’s hand froze midway into the bag. “Are you challenging me? But you haven’t taught me how to dive yet. Are you going to keep forgetting on purpose? Remember the needles?” The last two sentences dripped with pure amusement.

Jongin playfully rolled his eyes. “Are we swimming or not? Are you scared to find out you can, in fact, never beat a merman in his natural habitat?”

Perhaps Jongin shouldn’t have been too complacent. Perhaps it was due time he kept the word he’s sworn so long ago. Perhaps Sehun had received training elsewhere upon retuning to Seoul. Regardless, it amazed Jongin the young boy he first met who hedged during their swimming lessons once upon a time had now beaten him in a skill he was supposed to excel at.

Sehun flipped his wet hair away from his face, beaming wide at his acquired victory, won fair and square. His hair was longer from last time, black as the starless night. Jongin wondered, not for the first time, how it would feel against his fingers if he ran them through the strands.

“So, I won,” Sehun said, smug in tone and smirk.

“You won,” Jongin conceded, albeit begrudgingly. Though his pride as a merman was hurt, he could set it aside for now. The pure happiness on Sehun’s face wasn’t the reason. Not at all. “Shall I teach you the kind of diving that won’t require using equipment?”

Sehun nodded eagerly. “Of course! I waited so many years for this. I’ve done some scuba diving with friends last year in Jeju, but it won’t hurt to expand my abilities, right?”

“There are two methods,” Jongin said. “The first one is the easiest. All you need to do is take in something that will allow you to breathe underwater without the threat of losing air for your lungs.”

“What’s that?”

“A sea vegetable.” Sehun’s face showed mild skepticism. Jongin continued explaining. “It’s a plant that grows the whole year round, so you needn’t wait for harvest season. Merfolk who have fed it to humans recommended slicing it into cubes for easier ingestion. It will take a few hours, though. The sea vegetable is rumored to taste far too salty for the human tongue. One advantage is that the vegetable’s effect lasts half a day.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Sehun said.

“It does,” Jongin agreed. “We were taught this in school should we encounter humans we wished to befriend.”

“What’s the second method?”

Hesitation overcame Jongin for reasons he could not fathom at the moment. Lying was not in his nature, however, most of all to those he deemed close and important to him. Meeting Sehun’s expectant gaze, Jongin strictly instructed himself not to look away when answering the question.

“A kiss.”

Surprise stole across Sehun’s face, albeit fleeting, giving way to another emotion Jongin couldn’t decode. The corners of Sehun’s mouth lifted, then he ran a hand through his wet hair. He only broke the eye contact for a split second before locking gazes with Jongin again.

“This is easier than I thought.” Sehun’s smile grew more visible, now, shaking his head. He didn’t allow Jongin to question his meaning by following it up with a question. “How effective is the kiss compared to eating the vegetable?”

“You will be able to breathe underwater until next day’s sunrise.”

“Between eating a vegetable and a kiss, which one would you choose, if you were in my place?”

Confused why he was being asked this, Jongin responded, “I have no problem eating vegetables of any kind.”

“Really? Well, you don’t know this, but I’m a very picky eater. There are only certain vegetables I will willingly put on my plate.”

Jongin blinked, turning over the words in his head. “Are you implying it will be easier for you to kiss someone than eat a vegetable?” His insides prickled with an undesirable emotion he refused to name.

“Yeah,” Sehun answered, sans stalling. The prickling worsened; Jongin willed it away in vain. “But if you’re assuming I’ll kiss just any merperson so I can dive underwater without a hitch, I would rather suffer and eat the vegetable.”

“What do you mean?” Even to Jongin’s own ears, the question sounded foolish. He heard Sehun loud and clear, nary a stutter or hints of hesitation. His chest brimmed full with the warmth he learned to associate with Sehun and everything about him, powerful and all-encompassing like the giant waves on a stormy night.

Yet even in his hoping, Jongin treaded carefully; refused to set himself up for disappointment. Diving headfirst without checking for danger did nobody good if his interpretation clashed with the other party’s. With Sehun’s.

“What do you think I mean?” Sehun asked, tone light and teasing. A stark contrast to his reddened cheeks and ears; the earnest expression on his face made youthful by the crinkling of his eyes. “It means I only kiss someone if I like them. It means I have to like the merperson I will be kissing before agreeing to do it.” His blush deepened, hair stirring in the sea breeze; smile softer, tender. “It means I will kiss you because I like you, and not because I’m taking advantage of what I can gain from it.”

Jongin’s speechlessness must’ve set off Sehun’s nervousness, for in the stretched-out silence, his expression morphed from anticipatory to a mixture of embarrassment, and dispirited. Emotions overwhelmed him in a way he’d never known before. His heart ached through the tumult of his mind, and also jolted him back to the startling reality of receiving a confession.

“Sorry,” was Sehun’s first word that shattered the silence and thickened the tension. “That sounded much cooler in my mind. Obviously, it came out lame. Ah, what am I even blabbering about…” His chuckle sounded halfhearted, once confident gaze faltering as it slid away and worsened the ache in Jongin’s chest. “Anyway, you’re free to forget this conversation happened.”

“No,” Jongin’s rapid answer shocked the both of them, but urged him to push forward. “I don’t want to. I will never forget what you just told me.”

Sehun’s brows furrowed; opened his mouth to say something. Jongin didn’t allow it; grabbed his hand to silence him, cradling it between his own, heartbeat racing from the electrifying contact.

Then, as his lips stretched into a slow smile, Jongin said, “Because I want to do it, too. Kiss you, that is. I want to kiss you because I like you, and I wish to gain your heart, as well.”

☆彡

Jongin had many favorite things.

Some changed like the ebb and flow of waves. Most were constants in his life from growing up, introduced through various school activities, getting to know more about himself: sunny days with cool weather, clear skies in a blue so bright it rivaled the sea’s, learning and discovering the lost merfolk dances of the olden days that were unfortunately no longer performed as their kind took a bigger inclination to singing.

The list expanded exponentially as he became more discerning of his likes and dislikes. Added new things gained from new experiences: strange human inventions he poured hours into figuring out how to make work; pretty trinkets that were unexpected finds from sunken ships; the kind smiles and kinder words of humans who didn't fear his species after rescuing them from a tragic fate.

Jongin had a lot more, and it might take an eternity to exhaust his list. But right now, if somebody asked him to narrow it down, he would answer a majority of his favorite things now involved Sehun.

Seeing Sehun year after year was already a blessing in itself. Spending plenty time together and befriending each other were two bonuses. Though the activities they could do were limited—Sehun with his legs and delicate lungs, Jongin with his tail requiring constant contact with seawater—it mattered little as long as they could see each other.

Now, with Sehun’s newly-acquired ability to breathe underwater, Jongin could show him the world he lived in—its breathtaking wonders, its unmatched sights. Jongin reveled in Sehun’s curiosity and awe on their first diving adventure. The look of absolute surprise on Sehun’s face when he discovered he could also talk underwater without the threat of choking was well worth the nervous racing of Jongin’s heart and the heat-infused cheeks when their lips touched for the first time.

Sehun didn’t look put together after the kiss, either, obvious in his furious blush that rivaled the red of corals. Jongin could’ve cooed about how adorable he looked if he wasn’t equally as flushed.

The other kisses came easier; happened more naturally, but not after a few mishaps. Noses bumping, leaning in hastily, misread cues segueing to funny moments and dissolving them into giggle fits—it proved their inexperience in navigating this foreign territory of fluttery feelings that unfailingly intensified with every clumsy clasp of hands, every chaste press of lips.

If he was to further reduce the list and pick one, kissing Sehun was now Jongin’s favorite thing. Unlike other times, he didn’t think he’d tire of this soon. Or ever. Not when Sehun’s kisses steadily became surer and sweeter than the last, if assigning a flavor to it was possible. Some nights Jongin would lie awake in his quarters with his lips still tingling, the taste of their kisses lingering long after they happened. Jongin would press a finger to his lips, wishing morning would come soon with mild impatience so he could have the same sweet kiss again. So he could see Sehun again.

“Leaving will be harder this time around,” Sehun told him, after they finished watching a new ballet video clip. This summer, Sehun not only brought new video clips for Jongin to watch but shared the titles and storylines of each ballet. “I wish summer never ended so I can stay here.” His frown looked wistful saying this.

“I do not wish for you to return to Seoul, either,” Jongin confessed, and he was honest about this. Denying was pointless. “You need to complete an education, though. Your father will need you to be there for him, too.”

Sehun’s frown vanished. “If I had my way, I’d tell my dad to leave everything behind and move here permanently. But that’s too selfish of me, isn’t it? I like to think of myself as a grownup, but deep down, I’m still a child. Besides, my dad has a life in Seoul. He shouldn’t give up everything for some whim of mine.”

“Thinking about your father’s wellbeing is admirable. Don’t change that,” Jongin told him, leaning his head on Sehun’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” Sehun began absentmindedly toying with Jongin’s fingers. “There’s a ton of growing up I still need to do. I have a long way to go—there are childish sides to my personality I’m not proud of and want to change. When you call me admirable next time, I want to hear it when I no longer have anything to be ashamed about.”

“I believe in you.” And Jongin meant this. Straightening up, he gently curled his fingers around Sehun’s jaw so he could tilt his head toward him. “You know I’ll always wait for you here every summer, right? Go. As long as it’s summer, you know where to find me.”

As the setting sun bathed them in a golden light, they shared a kiss so gentle it would be seared into Jongin’s memory that would tide him over until the next summer.

Until they met again.

☆彡

“I don’t think I can come back here next summer.”

Five days into their next summer together, Sehun’s unpredicted confession startled Jongin speechless.

“Why?” Though Jongin had gained back his wits, his articulation remained elusive. A whirlwind of questions invaded his mind, warmth of the summer sun above suddenly weak against the slithering coldness in his veins.

Sehun looked to be struggling in figuring out how to explain. It took a few heartbeats before the words came. “I’ll be going someplace else after graduating high school. I told you before about college, right? Right. So, my new school for college is somewhere far away. It’s so far I have to ride an airplane to get there. Those giant, flying things we see in the sky sometimes that look like birds? Yeah, that’s an airplane. And when I get there, I can’t come back here whenever I want to anymore. Or every summer.

“During the trip, I wondered how to tell you.” Sehun sat in front of Jongin, folding his legs and balancing himself upright the best he could. Jongin noted how Sehun had grown taller by just a little more, shoulders broader than the past year. His hair was still dark but shorter, jawline a bit more defined now. At eighteen years, Sehun was growing into quite the handsome young man. “I didn’t want to keep it from you. It’s dumb to do that. Keeping secrets from each other is the reason why adults fight sometimes.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Jongin said, although he couldn’t lie his high spirits dampened. “Just… it doesn’t mean I am happy about it…” He trailed off on purpose, scared if he spoke more, he might come off unreasonable.

“Why? Will you miss me?” Sehun asked, cheeky, impish. Perhaps his attempt of lightening the situation. Perhaps to dispel the creeping gloominess. No matter the reason, Jongin was grateful he could still be like this.

“I will,” Jongin agreed, the words coming easily. Natural. “I always miss you, whether you leave at the end of summer or leave after the end of a day together.”

A rosy blush invaded Sehun’s face and spread to the tips of his ears and down to his neck. “W-what are you suddenly so cheesy for…” He ran a hand along his nape but didn’t break away from Jongin’s gaze.

“I’ll miss you, too,” came Sehun’s surprising and heartfelt confession, so softly uttered the sound was almost devoured by the cawing of seagulls. Jongin heard him, though—louder than the birds, louder than his own roaring heartbeat. Smiled and leaned forward to kiss Sehun on the nose. Blush deepening, Sehun kissed him back. “It’s not my intention to make you sad, but I also don’t want you to treat me like we’re never seeing each other again. We have to treat this summer like any other. We’re not going to mope and treat this like a farewell, okay?”

Jongin nodded. “If you wish it so.”

Days passed slow and spent together doing the usual things they did. Sehun was now a master at swimming and showed a vast improvement in his diving. He could now dive deeper under the sea, and with his ability of breathing underwater, Sehun was unstoppable. Still, Jongin checked on him, asked if he could still go farther, if his legs weren’t cramping yet. Sehun always treated the experience with childlike enthusiasm, never shied away when some sea creatures initiated contact with him, though some of them had him erring on the side of caution, intimidated by their sizes or unusual body proportions and parts.

Diving also led to underwater kisses. The first time it happened, Jongin was caught by surprise, interrupted mid-sentence asking Sehun if he was breathing okay after the kiss. Sehun responded by kissing him again and pulling away with a cheeky grin. Instead of being annoyed, Jongin snuck a counterattack by catching Sehun off-guard on their swim back to the surface by kissing him, too. Then it became a game of stealing kisses. Neither complained nor stopped.

On shore, while resting their tired bodies from diving, Sehun would teach Jongin various human pastimes. Jongin sang songs he learned in school while Sehun laid out his clothes to dry on the rocks. He shared his newly-acquired achievement of leading a choir to sing in commemoration of the sea goddess on a bi-annual maritime festival. The choir members were specially handpicked by the best music teachers. To belong to the choir meant a merteen’s voice and singing talent were recognized as one of the best through the sea.

“Now that my dreams of singing and being recognized for it have come true, there remains my one childhood wish I want to fulfill someday,” Jongin said.

“Ballet,” Sehun answered, and Jongin was touched he remembered. “You can be the greatest ballet dancer the world will come to know. If you had legs, you will be unstoppable.”

“How do you know that? I haven’t tried ballet for myself,” Jongin commented—amused, undeniably flattered. “I could dream of becoming a ballet dancer in your world but also fail spectacularly.”

“No. Impossible,” Sehun insisted, sitting close beside him. “Don’t think negatively from the start. I won’t let you. Have more confidence in yourself.” Jongin opened his mouth, but Sehun cupped a hand over it. “Don’t answer me if you’re only going to say more nonsensical things. And if you dare doubt what I say, I’ll be angry.”

This unwavering belief in him and his abilities warmed Jongin to the tips of his fins, ribcage far too small to contain his adoration for him. Slowly, he pried off Sehun’s hand away from his mouth, ignoring his sound of complaint, and said, with utmost conviction, “I believe it, too.”

Summer days usually sailed unhurried, sometimes rivaling the crawls of turtles on land. Yet despite the days stretching longer, the nights spreading shorter, time spent together seemed to be passing by too fast, like sand escaping between the gaps of fingers through a tightly-closed fist. Returning home underwater at the end of the day found Jongin wishing more ardently, more frequently than previous, for tomorrow to come faster. For time to slow once they were together. For the warmth of Sehun’s hand around his to last a long, long time after Jongin dove underwater. For the kisses, the smiles, the touches and the comfort to never stop coming.

On the eve of summer’s end, Jongin stared at the round, transparent object dangling from Sehun’s fingers through a loop of gold string attached atop it. Sehun slid off the string and passed the object onto Jongin’s awaiting palms. A _bauble_ , he called it. Jongin mimicked the word; got it right on the third try. Inside the bauble was a folded piece of paper.

“The bauble is waterproof.” Sehun explained what the word meant. Some human inventions were truly amazing and convenient, Jongin thought. “It won’t corrode no matter how long it stays underwater. When… when you get legs, and you’ve become a ballet dancer, my home address and phone number are written inside the paper.”

Jongin heard him clearly; nodded to show he understood. Yet what Sehun wasn’t saying spoke louder on this night cloaked with both uncertainty and hope. In the years they had known each other, Jongin learned to decipher the things Sehun never said; because in these unspoken sentiments lay buried pieces of his heart.

In his current silence, Sehun meant: _come find me._

In his current silence, Sehun meant: _we will see each other again._

“I will,” Jongin said, keeping a secure grip on the bauble, his now most prized treasure among all those he owned. In return, Jongin gave Sehun one of his.

“ _Wow_ ,” Sehun gasped the word out, taking the silver necklace with a teardrop gem in the deepest sapphire like the sea. He wore it right away, and Jongin thought it suited him. Sehun held the gem with careful fingers in his inspection. “This feels a little too fancy for me. Thank you. I’ll treasure this because it’s your gift to me.”

At eighteen years equivalent to human age, Jongin learned goodbyes were not always sad, or tragic, or final.

At eighteen years equivalent to human age, Jongin learned kisses could taste bittersweet.

☆彡

Contrary to the famed bedtime story among merfolk, the sea witch did not require drastic payments for her service; was not old and wrinkly and lived in darkness. She was definitely not half woman and half octopus; not cunning, or sly, or kept tricks up her sleeve to cheat the little mermaid of her coveted legs and prince charming, like the popular human adaptation that butchered the story’s characters.

“Blasphemous! Truly blasphemous are the tales about me these humans spin,” the sea witch ranted, busily brewing a potion in her cauldron. The liquid changed color with each ingredient poured. “I am far too beautiful and generous and transparent to be slandered by mutinous mouths.”

Jongin smiled but said nothing. If anything riled up the sea witch faster than the blink of an eye, it was the humans’ misconceptions about her. Depictions of the sea witch’s true form done by humans mostly leaned toward the dastardly kind, and Jongin sometimes wondered why humans wanted to portray her as such.

The sea witch was a beautiful mermaid herself, with a tail in the most eye-catching shade of pink; long, long hair of a similar color, flowing around her like a cloud and followed her movements. Tiny starfishes decorated her hair; around her neck a perfect string of luminescent pearls. Jongin wasn’t sure where he heard it from, whether it was fiction or fact, but the pearls she wore were supposedly magical, like everything in her cave, from the potted plants decorating her cave’s entryway to the mythical creatures slumbering in a separate dwelling believed to be fictitious by land dwellers.

And like a young Sehun told him once before about everything having a name, the sea witch, usually pertained to her title, had one, too.

“Here.” Joohyun handed Jongin a vial containing liquid the color of fire. Jongin knew better than to be fooled by its captivating, fiery red, if the stories he heard from others were anything to go by. “I know what you intend to do, and this is the result of one year’s worth of hard work. Earning my trust by becoming my assistant is no easy task. Very few have stayed, endured, and passed my tests. It is a testament of the lengths they are willing to take to get their heart’s desire. Yours, too. I must say, I have not seen determination like yours in a long time. I am genuinely impressed.”

“Thank you. My gratitude to you runs eternal.” Jongin accepted the vial, holding it with a sure, careful hand, making sure not to drop it. Working as Joohyun’s assistant had cost him countless chastising and wasted ingredients, all due to his clumsiness. It helped lengthen his patience, taught him to deal with clients’ erratic moods and Joohyun’s caprices; learned to communicate better with foreign sea creatures and how to tame them. He learned more about sea botany than what they taught in school; ancient songs once believed to be myth actually existing though couldn’t be translated to the merfolk’s modern language.

Joohyun hummed, a pleased sound. “Young merman, I repeat to you what this vial contains. It is a potion to aid in your transformation from merman to mere man. Your tail shall be replaced with legs. You will not lose some of your merman capabilities such as swimming. Breathing underwater without consequence will now be impossible. The potion’s potency will last three decades. You will not need to worry about reverting back to your merman state in case water, plain or sea-sourced, will touch your skin. But remember this: you must return to the sea to immerse yourself in pure seawater once every month for three decades, or you will become gravely ill.”

Jongin repeated Joohyun’s instructions to himself over and over while preparing for his ascension to the land above. He hugged his family members for one last time, telling them he would miss them dearly; hugged his mother the longest, telling her he would miss her the most.

On the shore Jongin sat, waiting for the first sunbeam to touch the land. The red liquid was as fiery as it looked, blazing down his throat with ferocious heat Jongin almost gagged. He caught himself in time; willed himself to swallow the potion to the last drop. A burning sensation flared in his core, shooting downward. Excruciating pain seized his lower half, and Jongin doubled over from its breath-stealing intensity. His scales were crackling, dissolving; his tail felt like it was being split in half. Jongin fell to his side, writhing on the sand, arms clutching his middle, gritting his teeth through the lasting torture.

Jongin wasn’t sure how long he stayed immobile; how long the pain took him captive. He wasn’t even sure when he’d closed his eyes; how long he’d passed out. When he came to, world returning to focus, the sun hung high up in the sky.

A man was peering down at him with curious eyes to the side.

Jongin had never bolted upright so fast. Disorientation struck him first; his head colliding with the man’s second. A pained yelp escaped them both. Jongin held his head, about to demand who he was, but stopped upon noticing two very naked and very human legs that were very much his.

“I have legs,” Jongin blurted out, before he could stop himself. He touched his calves, surprised by the smoothness of the skin; the length of his legs. Quickly doing a mental estimate, he ascertained his tail was about the same length if he still had it. His mother used to tell him if he ever became human, he would have long legs that could incite envy from others; stand proudly tall with his above average human height. Jongin knew to trust his mother’s words.

“Indeed, you do,” the man’s reply reminded Jongin he wasn’t alone.

Cautious, self-conscious of his nudity, Jongin tried and failed to cover up; hurriedly asked, “Who are you?”

The man produced a cloth—a _towel_ , he called it—from a bag Jongin didn’t notice the first time. He instructed Jongin how to use it to cover himself; helped him stand in order to wrap it around his waist. Jongin’s legs and _knees_ (the man called it that for those funny-looking knobs) trembled, and he was having a hard time getting used to standing. It took a few tries before Jongin adjusted. Standing upright on solid ground felt strange; he was too used to floating on water.

The man, who introduced himself as Junmyeon, told Jongin he could teach him how to walk. Jongin was more than aware trusting blindly—a human, at that—might get him into trouble, but Junmyeon looked harmless. Putting one foot in front of the other was relatively easier, except Jongin hadn’t rid himself of his instinct to wriggle his lower half instead of lifting and setting down his feet. He stumbled and fell a few times. Junmyeon’s smile, though encouraging, was starting to get on Jongin’s nerves. Still, he trusted; still, he tried. When Jongin was on the verge of giving up, he surprised both himself and Junmyeon by taking one last try at walking without being guided. Succeeded.

The success was short-lived by Junmyeon’s revelation, but also shed light to one of Jongin’s questions.

“You must wonder why I approached you. I was tasked to take you to a house that doubles as a shelter for newly-transformed merpeople.”

Jongin completely stopped in his tracks; nearly lost his balance, if not for Junmyeon’s steadying hand around the crook of his elbow. “Is that why you taught me how to walk? Why you brought a towel? How did you…?”

“How do I know? I have ties to the sea; specifically, the sea witch who works to protect the waters and its inhabitants in the stead of the goddess,” Junmyeon said, his smile looking diplomatic but also comforting. “Joohyun is my sister. Oh, you look like you do not believe me. That is quite alright—you are not the first among the merfolk to be suspicious.”

On the way to the shelter, Junmyeon explained their mother, the previous sea witch, took a human for her husband but chose to live in the sea rather than on land. Junmyeon, with more human blood in him, stayed behind with their father. Joohyun’s gift of sorcery made her follow their mother under the sea. It was no secret some of the merfolk longed to live above, regardless of reasons, but the education about land dwellers taught under the sea was not adequate enough to supply them with the knowledge to survive in human society. It had been their mother’s idea to provide a shelter; relegated Junmyeon to ferry these newly-transformed merfolk to the shelter and teach them the basics of living like a human. This encompassed walking, a deeper knowledge and understanding of formal and informal language, customs and beliefs, and everything else that would prepare them for mingling with humans without rousing suspicion should they decide not to reveal their origins.

At the shelter, Jongin spent the next two years learning, assimilating, adapting through Junmyeon’s saintly guidance; found a home with the other humans aware of merfolk existence but treated him and the others with kindness and respect. They were also helpful and eager in imparting knowledge; patient as they were fun-loving. Here Jongin met others like him who worked for their legs; listened to their stories for coming to land. Jongin warmed up to them relatively faster than the others, and if the nostalgia for the sea struck them, they would huddle in the living room trading memories laced with nostalgia.

Comfortable and cozy this shelter and its inhabitants were, Jongin never forgot his purpose for coming to land.

“As you know, Jongin, while preparing a merperson for their immersion into human society, we also help them cultivate their interests,” Junmyeon told him, one night after dinner. They were in Junmyeon’s study, the place where serious conversations about future plans were normally conducted. “I have been informed by colleagues from the sea you excelled at singing and dancing. There are some places we can recommend if you wish to do and learn anything related to those. Everything will be arranged accordingly once you have decided. Which one do you wish to pursue?”

“I wish to dance,” Jongin said, without missing a beat. “I wish to learn ballet.” Solid determination coated his every word. “Show me where I should go to learn it.”

☆彡

One good-weathered day in summer, a new student arrived at the doorsteps of a prestigious ballet academy. He was accompanied by a man with an infamous reputation of being linked to merfolk. The new student had zero training before coming to the academy, despite his impressive stock memory of ballet pieces, but the directress saw no reason to turn him away due to his lack of experience and age.

Jongin was genuinely surprised by the directress’ good news informing him he would be accepted into the academy. It might or might not have something to do with the academy’s infamous reputation of taking in students from origins human and merfolk alike. Though their level of skills varied and hailed from different parts of land and water, they worked together in one environment to achieve a common goal.

The tour around the academy heightened Jongin’s excitement; every room he was shown bringing a smile to his face. He was given a chance to sit in and watch a morning class where dancers warmed up and exercised, admiration twining with envy at their finesse and grace he wished to achieve one day. He delighted in watching them bend and twirl and leap like the young man and woman pair he saw on the beach that fateful day; like the costumed dancers he watched one too many times on Sehun’s phone.

At the end of the tour, Jongin vaguely recalled the taunting from the disbelievers; the naysayers who mocked him for a so-called silly wish. Today, he was one step closer to achieving what they thought he would never reach.

The directress—Boa was her name—assured him if he worked hard and poured his heart into everything he did, he would be able to dance like the aspiring dancers he watched today.

And so Jongin prepared. And so Jongin trained. Unerring passion and determination were his tools. He diligently attended classes, listened to his teachers. Spent countless hours in front of the training room mirrors perfecting his dance steps, his posture, his expressions and form until he was satisfied with the results, but also left space for dissatisfaction he would use to push himself in order to try harder. Dance better.

Dancers who started learning ballet since a young age had an edge over Jongin in terms of flexibility and technique. Instead of staying envious, Jongin searched for ways he could attain a similar pliability; gradually conditioned his body to undergo such a state. The edge Jongin had over humans was his merfolk physiology, in which it took a relatively smaller time frame for their bodies to be as limber as they desired. Combined with Jongin’s single-minded devotion to his training and classes, sometimes staying back an extra hour or two at night to work more on anything he deemed unsatisfactory about himself, his body became as flexible and well-coordinated as the others.

He applied the same work principle and intense focus on learning dances, watching his peers and admiring their forms and interpretation of roles, picking valuable lessons without sacrificing his own style. He studied the characters and storylines of upcoming productions; listened to the musical scores, made up steps as he let the melody flow through him and move his limbs to match it. At times Jongin forgot he was out in public, and only when his concentration broke would he notice and shy away from the strange looks civilians directed at him.

On his first performance as a member of the corps de ballet, Jongin had never known nervousness compared to this. But he held his head up high, performed the best he could. Off stage, his knees wobbled as the exhilarating rush of performing slowly faded from his system. Wobbling knees unable to support him, Jongin fell to a kneel, albeit from sheer relief and delight. This was what performing was like. This was what ballet was like.

Subsequent performances gave him the chance to take on more roles, enrich his experience, grow as a performer. Along the way, he began attracting the attention of his fellow dancers, the teachers; gained admirers in a professional and romantic sense, Jongin handling them with care while gently turning down confessions. Through tenacity and an unquenchable thirst for improvement, Jongin’s dancing started gaining more attention, recognition, and ultimately forged the path that led him to climb up the ranks one promotion at a time; ballet companies from other lands wooing him with invitations to perform for them as a guest principal dancer.

The astonishing leap from zero ballet background to being heralded as one of the most riveting dancers in the world of ballet was dizzying as it was motivating. Jongin took his promotions and the attention that came attached in stride; used it to keep himself grounded at all times, especially since major roles were now entrusted to him for several big productions. If he was honest, he did like the positive attention he and his dancing were receiving. Stories of self-confessed fans who told him through letters they were inspired to do better in their occupations and personal lives touched him. It made him smile knowing his dancing provided happiness, or moved them to tears with the stories he portrayed using his body.

Above all, Jongin loved the fact he achieved his biggest wish, and the one dearest to his heart.

And now, he was set on fulfilling another.

In the years he stayed in Seoul, despite his one-tracked mind devoted to ballet, not once did he give up searching for Sehun. On the first day he had set foot in Seoul, he had practically begged Junmyeon to bring him to the address indicated on the paper he pulled out from the bauble. Junmyeon had been hesitant about showing up at a complete stranger’s house, but he did call the number scribbled below the address. From the brief phone call, Jongin had learned it was the right number, and indeed there was a Sehun who lived in that very residence, but he hadn’t returned to Seoul in a long time. When asked if Sehun would return to Seoul anytime this year, the answer had been a disappointing _most likely not, his father had taken a flight yesterday to spend the summer with him_.

Jongin took a bold attempt visiting the address the following year in the hope Sehun had returned to Seoul already. The expansive property and the luxurious-looking house that stood on it shocked Jongin wordless. This residence was far bigger than the seaside house with a beautiful, carefully-tended garden in front. A wrought-iron gate stood tall and intimidating, separating Jongin from finding out if luck was on his side today.

The broken intercom and doorbell ascertained it was not, after Jongin pressed the button a few times and the screen didn’t light up, rendering it impossible to reach the caretaker.

Jongin’s friends, who tagged along to help him find the house, were just as flabbergasted, if not more.

“You’re acquainted with someone this rich?” Moonkyu, one of the first friends he made in the academy and also a ballet dancer, gaped at the property. He also happened to be a merman but hailed from a different corner of the sea.

“We should rob him. I don’t think he’ll mind if we take one or two belongings and sell it on an online auction,” Taemin, another of Jongin’s friends, joked. Although not of merfolk origins, Jongin had a hard time believing that at first when he watched Taemin dance on stage for the first time, especially when he heard him sing at random after finishing his barre warm-ups.

Jongin chuckled. “I don’t think we should do that. We could get arrested.”

“It must suck to not be able to see the person you’ve been searching for,” Taemin remarked, on their walk away from the property. “This has been going on for, what, years? Maybe he moved permanently to—what was that the house caretaker told you? Paris?”

“Isn’t Paris called the most romantic city in the world? I remember reading that in a magazine before,” Moonkyu said. He patted Jongin on the shoulder in an assuring manner and smiled. “Don’t feel down, Jongin. Maybe it’s just not the right time for you to meet.”

“Oh, Moonkyu the romantic?” Taemin teased with his mischievous grin. “I have a different opinion. Maybe Jongin should be bolder in seeking out this person who’s as elusive as a ghost. I’m very fascinated by this person, to be honest. You don’t talk much about him? Her? And that’s well within your right, of course. Just be aware you’re not as subtle as you seem—it shows on your face how much you’re longing for this person.”

Jongin wasn’t cagey about Sehun on purpose. Although he avoided sharing too much, it wasn’t because he didn’t trust his friends with more intimate information about himself. It also wasn’t because he refused to talk about Sehun, or wanted to forget the memories associated with him. Jongin simply wanted to keep them to himself for as long as he could. Even if these stories were all he held on to for years. Even if reminiscing hurt, and Jongin would rub the base of his pinky finger, remembering the last promise they made of finding each other.

How could you find someone who kept slipping from your grasp? Jongin wanted to know the answer to this; had been searching and searching since the first time he learned how to use phones and make calls by himself. It had been the house caretaker who answered, and gave an answer he dreaded. The caretaker had told him they didn’t know Sehun’s personal number but would be sure to pass on the message when he called again. Jongin had been hopeful, then; was about to place another call a few months later, except his clumsiness struck, and he dropped his phone right down a ditch. To worsen an already bad day, he had also lost the paper containing Sehun’s address and phone number. The paper resurfaced after Jongin had honestly forgotten about it in months, only to accidentally spill water on it; ink smudged, characters and letters beyond recognition.

Devastated and heartbroken by the turn of events, Jongin had avoided thinking about anything related to Sehun for the meantime. By some sort of miracle, while searching for an item he borrowed from Moonkyu, he had chanced upon his old notebook he used for handwriting practice. Jongin flipped through the pages; gasped as the address greeted him in clumsy, wobbly characters. Recalled with startling clarity and a relieved heart how he had tried to write Sehun’s address as practice in the past.

Gradually, Jongin allowed himself to reminisce once more, before and after the house visit. Between breaks and rehearsals, on days some routines seemed impossible to master it reduced him to tears from the stress, his mind would drift back to Sehun, his encouraging words, the way he tirelessly believed in him on times he himself was doubtful, and drew more strength from that. Enabled him to cry as much as he wanted, wipe his tears after, stand up and try again. And again, until he perfected the routine with flourish.

The reminiscing came strongest on the onset of summer, when spring’s residual chill was melted by the growing humidity that Jongin refused to step out of his apartment. Everywhere he looked on the beach during his visit for the monthly soaking made him smile; eased the longing in his heart, albeit temporarily, when he recalled the many carefree summer days they spent while growing up. One look at the rock they used to sit on, and Jongin would wonder what sort of ambition Sehun found for himself. Sehun had been tightlipped about his life goals back then, much less the occupation of his parents. Jongin hadn’t pressed Sehun for answers, allowing him secrets for himself. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder.

Seven days into summer, during a cafeteria break between rehearsals, Taemin slipped into the chair across from Jongin’s. His appearance paused the conversation between Moonkyu and himself. Jongin would’ve greeted Taemin, offered food, but he was stopped by the cherubic-leaning grin Taemin wore. If Jongin hadn’t known him, he would’ve taken this as nothing. However, catching the impishness concealed in said grin had him asking, “What did you do?”

“Jongin, what do you think about going on a blind date?”

Jongin furrowed his brows. He heard of this concept before: two strangers are set up by a middleman to see if they could have good feelings about each other. Certainly a lot like matchmaking. “…what did you do?” he repeated his earlier question, a sense of dread creeping up on him.

“Oh, nothing much. Just that I snagged you one, and you’re going to thank me later.” Taemin looked mighty proud of his accomplishment.

“ _What?_ ” Jongin exclaimed, in a volume louder than expected. Recovering quickly from the embarrassment of the curious looks directed at their table, though the heat in his cheeks had yet to subside, he lowered his voice and demanded, “Why did you do that? You should’ve asked for my permission first before doing it!”

“See, this is the thing: if I asked for your permission, it will take you three centuries before I get an answer out of you,” Taemin said, unfazed. “And you’re probably this panicked because it’s your first time. It’s okay, there’s nothing to worry about. I didn’t set you up with a psycho or a freak or someone with a dubious background. You’re in good hands.”

Jongin’s mind was spinning. “You sound so sure I’m agreeing to this,” he complained.

“Because you will.” Taemin’s eyes crinkled and an overly-sweet smile took over his features. “Trust me. You will want to go on this blind date. I repeat: I did a background check on the other person myself. I think you’ll get along well. That person is Taemin approved.”

“Give me details, too,” Moonkyu said. “Send them to me on KakaoTalk so Jongin won’t know.”

“Not you! I trusted you!” Jongin griped, shaking an accusatory finger at Moonkyu, albeit halfhearted. Moonkyu’s responding laughter only deepened his misery.

“I think it could be a good experience.” Moonkyu’s agreement continued surprising and annoying Jongin. “I’ve gone on blind dates before. Some worked out. Some haven’t. Yes, Taemin set up some of those dates for me. His success rate is around ninety percent? Anyway, don’t pout, Jongin. You’re not required to fall in love with the other person on the first meeting. Exposure to other kinds of humans can be good. It can also help you decide what kind of traits you find attractive.”

 _But I already know,_ Jongin thought to himself, instead of saying it aloud. He knew what he liked in someone, traits that made them more attractive. Foolish it might’ve been to hold on to something that might not progress any further, Jongin continued clinging onto the sliver of hope that, someday, he and Sehun would cross paths again.

It had taken a lot of wheedling and coaxing, but in the end, Jongin had given in to Taemin and Moonkyu’s persuasion. He still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of meeting a complete stranger, but he also considered the fact Taemin wouldn’t get him into trouble on purpose, despite some of his rather odd quirks and odder thought processes. Taemin and Moonkyu agreed to keep watch from a distance just to make sure things wouldn’t go awry; that Jongin needn’t worry.

When a date and meeting place were worked out, and contact details swapped, Jongin stood in front of the mirror smoothing the stray strands of hair away from his forehead for what seemed like the umpteenth time. He left the apartment a little anxious and arrived at the rendezvous—some posh café in Cheongdam—and sat on the corner table Taemin pointed. Moonkyu and Taemin were seated on the opposite end of the room, chatting over their drinks; nodded and smiled if they saw him looking.

Jongin had just finished sending a picture of his outfit from the neck down to the other person so he could easily be spotted. While waiting for a response, he sifted through the details Taemin shared with him a week before. His blind date was twenty-six years old, just like him; spent a few years living overseas pursuing a college education and returned recently to train and prepare for the family business. The person must be someone who loved dogs a lot, Jongin deduced, opening the chat room with the blind date and paid closer attention to the profile picture of a dog with fluffy white fur. Jongin liked dogs the best among land animals. The brief exchange of messages didn’t hint anything about his probable personality, however.

Jongin wasn’t accustomed to drinks served in cafés, coffee the number one perpetrator he wanted to avoid at all costs. Yet he was indoctrinated into tolerating lattes, although it was a beverage he wouldn’t drink out of his own volition. His cup remained untouched in front of him. Though Jongin hadn’t fully warmed up to this entire blind dating idea yet, he also couldn’t bring himself to relax. He wondered what the other person looked like. They might have exchanged outfit photos, and Jongin noticed the broadness of his shoulders first; the lavish-looking room in the background second. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was a hotel room, or something else.

His train of thought broke off from the sudden movement in front of him. Jongin blinked, taking in the features of this person’s face; mind blanking and pulse quickening the longer he looked.

The outfit in the picture matched: a white dress shirt, open at the neck, emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders. Short, neat hair, jet black and styled with a little product. A face that had changed over time, childish features no longer present, but one Jongin now recognized. Especially with the pair of dark eyes that stared at him with polite curiosity, hiding mysteries he might or might not reveal.

Especially with the silver necklace where a teardrop gem hung, resting just below his collarbones. A teardrop gem that was, coincidentally, a vibrant sapphire in color it brought Jongin back to the day he had given it to that person.

In his heart, Jongin knew this was him. This was Sehun, all grown up and became the handsome man he always knew he’d become. This was Sehun, sitting in front of him, yet did not seem to recognize Jongin, speaking so gently but formally as he inquired if he waited long.

“Where have you been? Did you intend to make me wait this long? Search for you just as long?” Jongin found himself saying before he could stop himself.

Sehun blinked, brows knitting together slightly. “Pardon me…?” He sounded genuinely confused.

Jongin leaned back in his chair; folded his arms across his chest. “I can’t believe you’ve forgotten about me,” he said, pouting for full effect. At the growing confusion on Sehun’s face, he added, “We made a promise not to forget about each other before you stopped coming to the beach, didn’t we? And if someone breaks their promise, they would have to eat a thousand needles as punishment.”

The dawning recognition on Sehun’s face was a joy to watch, the slow unfurling of a smile far brighter than the summer sun outside.

“You still haven’t let that go? After all this time?” Sehun teased back, smile growing wider by the second. Fonder. His eyes crinkled, and, _oh_ —for a split second, Jongin saw him; the younger version of Sehun, whose smile never changed to this day.

“I hold grudges. You should know this. You shouldn’t have forgotten that, or this date will end earlier than expected,” Jongin countered, sans heat, wagging a finger at him to punctuate each word, failing to keep up his fake annoyed act. It was hard to do so when elation was the stronger emotion coursing through him.

And this elation strengthened when, with a shyness so familiar but endearing, Sehun reached across the table to gently take Jongin’s hand in his. Sehun’s touch was tentative, at first, seeking silent permission, which Jongin granted by curling his fingers around his.

“I don’t want to eat needles on our reunion,” Sehun said, and both of them laughed at their inside joke. “But I _do_ want to make up for the time we lost.”

Jongin only had one answer to that. Tightening his hold around Sehun’s fingers, it felt like the world was right again.

Like summer once again.

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I normally don't do birthday fics, but I thought it fitting to share this one today.
> 
> Come talk to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mindstormfury/)! If you're shy, my [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/propinquity) is open.


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